


Nicotine

by Ectoslimer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Death, Other, Poverty, Sadstuck, Smoking, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ectoslimer/pseuds/Ectoslimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you fall into an alcohol induced state between the real world and memories, it's difficult to know what's real anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine

It barely mattered that you were only seventeen yet spending your nights alone. Drinking. What else? It barely mattered that as you took your final drag of that godforsaken cigarette that your blackened lungs were tightening with cancerous smog, that your body was decaying from the inside out, that you barely cared about your own well being anymore, because to be blunt, you couldn't care less.

He didn't care anymore so why bother. You could only be talking about your father of course. He was barely around anymore and when he was it was nonstop fighting,

yells, screams, the odd smash, from both of you- you couldn't pin all the blame on him...just the majority of it.

You were still persistent that he had done this to you, not that it was your own doing to clear out his liquor stash.

You couldn't remember the last time you saw him, but then again, you could barely remember anything anymore. The substance abuse had rotted your brain as well as your liver.

A weakened, half shaken exhale of ashen gray smoke escaped from between your thinned lips in a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding, causing your throat to stiffen as a rough smokers cough slipped.

Your dizzied gaze would from time to time take a brief skim around the darkened room, where you spent most of your time nowadays. The dark would somewhat depress you sometimes and weaken your thought process, but by the time you awoken most days, it was already dusk, and it wasn't as if anyone was paying the electricity bill.

All that remained to the lighting was the dimmed battery-fueled lamp in the hallway, streaking its weak glow through the gap in the wall where your door should be, but had been torn off in a feud long ago, not as if you needed the privacy with only you skimming the halls of the apartment for the majority of the time. You knew that eventually the batteries would run out and you'd once again be submerged in darkness, because you had wasted all your money on cigarettes, and only had one half run down Duracell left.

Your haggard skeletal hands push their way back through your unwashed hair before dragging down the sides of your face and remaining there, head slowly resting down to settle its weight in your hands, a subdued wince leaving you as the pressure of your fingertips presses into a dulled cut nearby your eyelid, not paying much attention to it besides tracing your fingers slightly away to avoid it.

Your heart suddenly skips a palpitation as the yellowed glow from the lamp is blocked by a the shadow of a figure, your body stiffening to sit up as your lazy glance flickers to watch the doorway. The jawline and unshaven stubble of your father is barely highlighted by the minimalist lighting.

You huff to him in shared conflict, awaiting the yells that never were to come, instead he made his way slowly into the room, prolonging the tension of the long awaited row that usually came sometime after he smelt the nicotine on your breath. But this time he was different, you could hear his soft breaths as he towered over you a moment before slowly seating himself behind you on your bare mattress, causing you to tense ever so slightly.

He had never been this quiet, even when calm and you began to suspect that he may be just as intoxicated as you were, you almost seized to hit him when you felt his hand in your hair, mildly surprised at the lack of attack as you half relaxed into him, confused but too weak to defend yourself. You could hear the echo of his rugged voice but unable to piece any of it together in a sentence.

Before you knew it you were blinking, he was gone and you were beginning to wonder if he was ever there in the first place. A meek groan left your lips as you pressed the back of your arm over your nose to block the smell that had infiltrated your system, the smell almost of rotting meat but you hadn't been able to afford meat in such a long time, if that's what it was you were worried how long it had actually been there and how you hadn't noticed the smell until now. You attempted to sit yourself up from your sprawled position on the bed, taking a while from the throbbing of dehydration filling your head. Before you could comprehend the new position you were throwing yourself forwards from the bed, roughly smearing your knuckles across your eyes to wake yourself up. The worst of the smell was radiating from the bed, not thinking as you dropped straight to the ground, taking its toll on your weakened body with a surge of pain, before you knew it you were staring under the bed; at something- someone-.

Your mouth dried an unmistakable pressure on your chest as you made eye contact with the aged corpse beneath your bed. The corpse of your father.


End file.
